


Make a wish on a falling star

by SrebrnaFH



Series: Srebrna's Sherlock Oneshots [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - The Sign of Three, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 18:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18783898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SrebrnaFH/pseuds/SrebrnaFH
Summary: Sometimes, if you wish for something...Someone else's wish gets granted.





	Make a wish on a falling star

“Look!” someone from the crowd cried. “Look, falling stars! It’s a good omen, good sign for today! Make a wish!”  
And everyone picked up the chant, repeating rhythmically “Make a wish! Make a wish! Make a wish!”  
They turned to the window - walked out to the wide patio, leaving the party behind them - leaving him alone in the great, white-decorated room.  
And he made a wish. He made a wish, with all his heart, with all his might.  
 _Let him be happy._  
Just bare twenty feet away his best friend turned away from his newly wedded wife and saw his face. He didn’t look up, he didn’t meet the blue gaze with his own green-grey eyes. He just wished, face crumbling from the force of that wish.  
He never saw the fear, the pain and the sudden understanding that flashed across his best friend’s features.  
He never saw the moment of decision - he wouldn’t have recognised it, maybe. He definitely would not have intuited or guessed or even approached the general vicinity of understanding what went through his friend’s head.  
But the next thing he knew, the reality coughed. Hiccuped. Tilted to the side.  
He caught himself on the table in front of him, painfully smashing his head on the eyepiece of the microscope in front of him.  
Someone knocked on the door and pushed it open.  
A choked voice - carefully controlled, but full of emotion - said softly: “A bit different from my days.”  
He looked up.  
And there he was, watching him, face serious, drawn and somehow, magically, five years younger.  
He swallowed. Painfully.  
“Mike,” he said, trying to regain his balance. “Can I borrow your phone?”  
“Here, use mine,” the eyes were looking at him, full of… something. Searching. Asking.  
He nodded.  
Only later that evening, falling asleep on the couch, face pressed into the softness of the well-worn jumper, his love’s hands in his hair, he thought that maybe, just maybe, this time, they both got their wish.


End file.
